FIC: So True a Fool
Jun. 21st, 2008 10:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nilchanceTitle: So True a Fool
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
nilchance and beanside
Rating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. And thank you,poisontaster, for kindly pointing out the Shakespeare poem that contained this title.
Control bled through Jensen's fingers, and he could only clutch at the remains.
Shivering in several tight layers of clothes, Jensen lowered the knife he had been cleaning and stared at the tainted blade. His blood painted the edge, smears of it from cuts he didn't remember inflicting on his bared arms.
Three days without a Retriever, and he had fallen into the siren song of the Uplink eight times. He could wrap his mind around the numbers, if not the reality that each time he woke with more cuts, more blood, and more terror that he had been found out.
After several tense minutes, there was no serene chime summoning him to the Administrator for liquidation. Jensen sank into the kitchen chair and rested his head in his hands, trying and failing to still his trembling.
Better that it happen now. Better that Jeff was elsewhere.
Barely a day of quiet courtesy had come and gone before Jeff was assigned his next Retrieval. Word had come in from a Scout that there was a cache of weaponry being unearthed about a day's ride south of the City. Jeff had been dispatched immediately, leaving Jensen to send him data through their link as he found it. Jeff was going to have enough problems slipping in and out without alerting the local warlords, but it was Jensen's duty to spare Jeff additional attention from the Cybers.
It was no wonder that they'd assigned an El to Jeff. Even the finest Retriever could only access limited parts of the Uplink without going insane. The genetic restructuring that went into changing a recruit into a Retriever caused a certain amount of instability. it was inevitable; one couldn't feed anyone that many drugs without damage. The cold tumbling flow of the Uplink would slide into a Retriever's fault lines and shatter them like so many matchsticks.
There were enough angry ghosts drifting in the Uplink without adding the uncontrolled rage of Retrievers.
These days, Administration didn't even bother to give the Retrievers access. Their access came solely from the El they had been assigned, or from the El Pool. It was safer. After all, the Librarians were created to serve. Genetically coded for stability, beauty and intelligence. They were built for this. They were disposable.
Forty percent failed the initial uplink at age three. Their broken little bodies were shuffled off to the incinerator, their minds torn loose and left to scream in the Uplink until they burned out. If the gods were merciful, they had to burn out sometime.
The gods made ghosts and Cybers. Jensen doubted their mercy.
Something brushed him. Gentle as it was, Jensen jerked and nearly tumbled off the kitchen chair before he recognized the source as a polite mental touch asking for permission to link. Relief swept over Jensen; it was not unusual for a Retriever to keep silent on a mission, but Jensen had been concerned by the lack of any contact. Closing his eyes, he found his center and calmed himself again. Jeff was in the field; he needed serenity and peace from a Librarian, not more chaos to distract him. If Jensen felt anxiety at their first direct linking, he couldn't share it.
Though linking was in reality a messy process of chemicals and wires, Jensen imagined it as the opening of a door. This one would be dusty, heavy but sturdy enough to offer sanctuary. Are you well, Retriever?
Jeff's mind touched him, staggeringly vivid: a callused hand Jensen's nape, the scent of iron. Dizzying warmth. I'm alive. Had to park the bike when the forest got too dense. It's been a long walk out here. You're all right?
Swamped as Jensen was in sudden input, it seemed impossible to talk. With a tilt of his head, he sent Jeff the architectural plans he'd found for the location of the weapons.
Thoughtful quiet. Jeff touched the plans, stroked them as he read like he would with a map. Jensen felt an echo of that touch on his skin, as if his body was stripped in the link between them. Was that what Jeff imagined when their minds linked?
Huh, Jeff said finally. Good work. I hadn't expected you to do that.
Thank you, Jensen returned, warmed by the praise.
No, thank you, Calliope, Jeff murmured.
I'll be available if you need me. In the meantime, good hunting, Retriever Bia.
Jeff chuckled. From your lips to Her ear.
Jensen broke the connection, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his stomach. Like swallowing tea quickly and feeling it all the way down. It was not unpleasant, but definitely unusual.
It only lasted a moment, though.
With Jeff gone, it was harder to stay focused. The borders of the Uplink pressed against him, whispers drifting through his mind unbidden. Disconnected screams brushed the the edges, and he struggled to shut them out, to ground himself in reality.
The suit wasn't enough anymore. The tie wasn't tight enough to keep him alert. He needed more.
He found it in a small shop in the Quarter that catered to the Servants of Eros. He was ashamed of that, but truly their jobs weren't so different. Salvation was a simple thing: four panels of white cloth laced together, with long bone stays that kept the wearer's back straight.
With the corset on, the laces pulled tight, he felt strong, solid. The voices in his head dimmed, the cold breath of the Uplink dying to a bare breeze. Better still, with his normal clothes on, it was invisible. He could do his job, be the El his Retriever needed. He could fake it; let the metal and fabric hold him together.
He walked through the marketplace, the pulsing red glow of his dataport marking him as claimed, owned by an Alpha Retriever. If the general populace regarded Retrievers as necessary barbarians, the Els were their whores. Less regarded than the lowest of prostitutes, the ones who defied Aphrodite's will and fucked for money alone, the Librarians were widely considered to be not much more than sex-dolls with a computer console for a brain.
Walking alone, he was a target for those who considered him a seed depository with legs. But with Jeff's status shining for all to see, he was safe. None would bring the rage of an Alpha down on themselves.
So he browsed alone, looking at the variety of foodstuffs, picking out things that weren't available at the compound--things that he hoped Jeff would like. It was soothing, the rhythm of looking, checking fruit for freshness. An older woman offered him a "deal" on spotted berries, telling him they'd make wonderful jelly. He took it, remembering the recipe in one of the ancient cookbooks Jeff had sitting on a shelf in his kitchen.
These days, thanks to the efforts of the Retrievers, the city had expanded considerably, more of the Wastelands being reclaimed for farmland and animal husbandry. Meat was becoming less scarce, and crops were regular, not the sporadic luxury of days past. Now they had dried fruits and frozen vegetables to tide them over during the harsh winters, instead of relying on supplements. The well off few even had greenhouses, so that they might have fresh food year round. He would have to ask Jeff if they could get access to plastic, build their own. It wouldn't help when the snows really hit, but during the rains and the harvest, it would keep them going.
The last winter had been hard, or so he'd been told. He'd spent it in the Care Unit, the doctors trying to anchor him to his body, to heal the damage Retriever Prometheus had done by leaving him in the Uplink for so long.
Jensen bent forward, feeling the stays bite into his waist, dragging his mind back to the present. The winters were getting longer each year, as the planet reasserted itself against the few cities that remained.
The current city was built on the ruins of a small mountain town, which the history books said was prone to heavy snows each winter. According to the Weather-witches, the climate was creeping back to normal, the last of the radiation from the Great War starting to leech out of the soil.
Truth be told, he was looking forward to snow. Many of the old texts he'd found described the hush the snows brought, the way the world looked newly formed under its blanket.
Back in the kitchen, he settled in to make the jam, singing softly to himself. He barely noticed the first brush of Jeff's mind. Jeff was just there, warm and strong, humming along the neural pathways.
Am I interrupting? Even mentally, his Retriever's voice was like rough velvet.
Jensen flinched, nearly fumbling the glass bottle he was holding. He set it carefully down. Of course not, Retriever. Are you well?
I have the weapons, but could you alert the Watch that I'll be coming in hot?
The warlords?
I wish. Cybers. I'll be there in twenty- Jeff's mental voice broke off with a hot sizzle of pain that he wasn't quite able to keep to himself. Jensen took the edge of the hurt, realizing in a wash of red that Jeff had tried to shelter him from the worst of it.
Retriever? Bia? Jensen waited a long moment for Jeff to reply before venturing, Jeff?
When there was no answer, Jensen disconnected, reconnecting to the security systems to alert them that a Retriever had requested backup from the Watch.
They would be waiting, and as soon as Jeff got in range-- if he was able to get in range-- they would provide extra firepower to ward off the Cybers. Jensen put the water on to boil and assembled the rather extensive first aid kit that Retrievers kept. If his injuries were too bad, Jeff would go to the care unit. But for anything short of life threatening, the Librarian's were expected to handle it.
Time ticked by. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Should he contact the care unit? No. Give him time. If Jeff arrived in a rage to find strangers in his home...
And if Jeff had fallen outside the gate, to the Cybers, Jensen would know by the screaming.
Forty minutes. Jensen heard the blood pounding in his ears.
At forty three minutes, the door lock chimed and Jeff stumbled in, looking and smelling half dead. Blood crusted the side of his head and clothes, and he was pale, lips compressed tightly. He caught sight of Jensen and stilled, trembling with killing tension. He wanted; Jensen could see it in the hard lines of Jeff's body, the weapons of his fists.
"Retriever," Jensen murmured. His mouth felt dry; he wet his lower lip and cursed himself for it when Jeff shuddered. This was his duty, his to take, his to bleed. Swallowing against fear, Jensen took a step towards his Retriever. "May I tend to you?"
Jeff was silent, his eyes black and wild. He made some noise in his throat, guttural. Stay back? Come closer? As Jensen took another step, he smelled the thick wetness of blood.
"Jeff," Jensen said, softer, the word falling from his mouth. "Tell me I can touch you."
Jeff closed his eyes and buckled to the floor.
Jensen darted over and took his weight, managing to soften his fall. His Retriever was heavy, and stank of the wasteland's desolation.
"I'll assume that's a yes," Jensen told Jeff, and dragged him over to the bandages.
Authors:
nilchance and beansideRating: Adult
Pairing: JDM/JA
A/N: Retriever-verse. And thank you,
poisontaster, for kindly pointing out the Shakespeare poem that contained this title.Control bled through Jensen's fingers, and he could only clutch at the remains.
Shivering in several tight layers of clothes, Jensen lowered the knife he had been cleaning and stared at the tainted blade. His blood painted the edge, smears of it from cuts he didn't remember inflicting on his bared arms.
Three days without a Retriever, and he had fallen into the siren song of the Uplink eight times. He could wrap his mind around the numbers, if not the reality that each time he woke with more cuts, more blood, and more terror that he had been found out.
After several tense minutes, there was no serene chime summoning him to the Administrator for liquidation. Jensen sank into the kitchen chair and rested his head in his hands, trying and failing to still his trembling.
Better that it happen now. Better that Jeff was elsewhere.
Barely a day of quiet courtesy had come and gone before Jeff was assigned his next Retrieval. Word had come in from a Scout that there was a cache of weaponry being unearthed about a day's ride south of the City. Jeff had been dispatched immediately, leaving Jensen to send him data through their link as he found it. Jeff was going to have enough problems slipping in and out without alerting the local warlords, but it was Jensen's duty to spare Jeff additional attention from the Cybers.
It was no wonder that they'd assigned an El to Jeff. Even the finest Retriever could only access limited parts of the Uplink without going insane. The genetic restructuring that went into changing a recruit into a Retriever caused a certain amount of instability. it was inevitable; one couldn't feed anyone that many drugs without damage. The cold tumbling flow of the Uplink would slide into a Retriever's fault lines and shatter them like so many matchsticks.
There were enough angry ghosts drifting in the Uplink without adding the uncontrolled rage of Retrievers.
These days, Administration didn't even bother to give the Retrievers access. Their access came solely from the El they had been assigned, or from the El Pool. It was safer. After all, the Librarians were created to serve. Genetically coded for stability, beauty and intelligence. They were built for this. They were disposable.
Forty percent failed the initial uplink at age three. Their broken little bodies were shuffled off to the incinerator, their minds torn loose and left to scream in the Uplink until they burned out. If the gods were merciful, they had to burn out sometime.
The gods made ghosts and Cybers. Jensen doubted their mercy.
Something brushed him. Gentle as it was, Jensen jerked and nearly tumbled off the kitchen chair before he recognized the source as a polite mental touch asking for permission to link. Relief swept over Jensen; it was not unusual for a Retriever to keep silent on a mission, but Jensen had been concerned by the lack of any contact. Closing his eyes, he found his center and calmed himself again. Jeff was in the field; he needed serenity and peace from a Librarian, not more chaos to distract him. If Jensen felt anxiety at their first direct linking, he couldn't share it.
Though linking was in reality a messy process of chemicals and wires, Jensen imagined it as the opening of a door. This one would be dusty, heavy but sturdy enough to offer sanctuary. Are you well, Retriever?
Jeff's mind touched him, staggeringly vivid: a callused hand Jensen's nape, the scent of iron. Dizzying warmth. I'm alive. Had to park the bike when the forest got too dense. It's been a long walk out here. You're all right?
Swamped as Jensen was in sudden input, it seemed impossible to talk. With a tilt of his head, he sent Jeff the architectural plans he'd found for the location of the weapons.
Thoughtful quiet. Jeff touched the plans, stroked them as he read like he would with a map. Jensen felt an echo of that touch on his skin, as if his body was stripped in the link between them. Was that what Jeff imagined when their minds linked?
Huh, Jeff said finally. Good work. I hadn't expected you to do that.
Thank you, Jensen returned, warmed by the praise.
No, thank you, Calliope, Jeff murmured.
I'll be available if you need me. In the meantime, good hunting, Retriever Bia.
Jeff chuckled. From your lips to Her ear.
Jensen broke the connection, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his stomach. Like swallowing tea quickly and feeling it all the way down. It was not unpleasant, but definitely unusual.
It only lasted a moment, though.
With Jeff gone, it was harder to stay focused. The borders of the Uplink pressed against him, whispers drifting through his mind unbidden. Disconnected screams brushed the the edges, and he struggled to shut them out, to ground himself in reality.
The suit wasn't enough anymore. The tie wasn't tight enough to keep him alert. He needed more.
He found it in a small shop in the Quarter that catered to the Servants of Eros. He was ashamed of that, but truly their jobs weren't so different. Salvation was a simple thing: four panels of white cloth laced together, with long bone stays that kept the wearer's back straight.
With the corset on, the laces pulled tight, he felt strong, solid. The voices in his head dimmed, the cold breath of the Uplink dying to a bare breeze. Better still, with his normal clothes on, it was invisible. He could do his job, be the El his Retriever needed. He could fake it; let the metal and fabric hold him together.
He walked through the marketplace, the pulsing red glow of his dataport marking him as claimed, owned by an Alpha Retriever. If the general populace regarded Retrievers as necessary barbarians, the Els were their whores. Less regarded than the lowest of prostitutes, the ones who defied Aphrodite's will and fucked for money alone, the Librarians were widely considered to be not much more than sex-dolls with a computer console for a brain.
Walking alone, he was a target for those who considered him a seed depository with legs. But with Jeff's status shining for all to see, he was safe. None would bring the rage of an Alpha down on themselves.
So he browsed alone, looking at the variety of foodstuffs, picking out things that weren't available at the compound--things that he hoped Jeff would like. It was soothing, the rhythm of looking, checking fruit for freshness. An older woman offered him a "deal" on spotted berries, telling him they'd make wonderful jelly. He took it, remembering the recipe in one of the ancient cookbooks Jeff had sitting on a shelf in his kitchen.
These days, thanks to the efforts of the Retrievers, the city had expanded considerably, more of the Wastelands being reclaimed for farmland and animal husbandry. Meat was becoming less scarce, and crops were regular, not the sporadic luxury of days past. Now they had dried fruits and frozen vegetables to tide them over during the harsh winters, instead of relying on supplements. The well off few even had greenhouses, so that they might have fresh food year round. He would have to ask Jeff if they could get access to plastic, build their own. It wouldn't help when the snows really hit, but during the rains and the harvest, it would keep them going.
The last winter had been hard, or so he'd been told. He'd spent it in the Care Unit, the doctors trying to anchor him to his body, to heal the damage Retriever Prometheus had done by leaving him in the Uplink for so long.
Jensen bent forward, feeling the stays bite into his waist, dragging his mind back to the present. The winters were getting longer each year, as the planet reasserted itself against the few cities that remained.
The current city was built on the ruins of a small mountain town, which the history books said was prone to heavy snows each winter. According to the Weather-witches, the climate was creeping back to normal, the last of the radiation from the Great War starting to leech out of the soil.
Truth be told, he was looking forward to snow. Many of the old texts he'd found described the hush the snows brought, the way the world looked newly formed under its blanket.
Back in the kitchen, he settled in to make the jam, singing softly to himself. He barely noticed the first brush of Jeff's mind. Jeff was just there, warm and strong, humming along the neural pathways.
Am I interrupting? Even mentally, his Retriever's voice was like rough velvet.
Jensen flinched, nearly fumbling the glass bottle he was holding. He set it carefully down. Of course not, Retriever. Are you well?
I have the weapons, but could you alert the Watch that I'll be coming in hot?
The warlords?
I wish. Cybers. I'll be there in twenty- Jeff's mental voice broke off with a hot sizzle of pain that he wasn't quite able to keep to himself. Jensen took the edge of the hurt, realizing in a wash of red that Jeff had tried to shelter him from the worst of it.
Retriever? Bia? Jensen waited a long moment for Jeff to reply before venturing, Jeff?
When there was no answer, Jensen disconnected, reconnecting to the security systems to alert them that a Retriever had requested backup from the Watch.
They would be waiting, and as soon as Jeff got in range-- if he was able to get in range-- they would provide extra firepower to ward off the Cybers. Jensen put the water on to boil and assembled the rather extensive first aid kit that Retrievers kept. If his injuries were too bad, Jeff would go to the care unit. But for anything short of life threatening, the Librarian's were expected to handle it.
Time ticked by. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty. Should he contact the care unit? No. Give him time. If Jeff arrived in a rage to find strangers in his home...
And if Jeff had fallen outside the gate, to the Cybers, Jensen would know by the screaming.
Forty minutes. Jensen heard the blood pounding in his ears.
At forty three minutes, the door lock chimed and Jeff stumbled in, looking and smelling half dead. Blood crusted the side of his head and clothes, and he was pale, lips compressed tightly. He caught sight of Jensen and stilled, trembling with killing tension. He wanted; Jensen could see it in the hard lines of Jeff's body, the weapons of his fists.
"Retriever," Jensen murmured. His mouth felt dry; he wet his lower lip and cursed himself for it when Jeff shuddered. This was his duty, his to take, his to bleed. Swallowing against fear, Jensen took a step towards his Retriever. "May I tend to you?"
Jeff was silent, his eyes black and wild. He made some noise in his throat, guttural. Stay back? Come closer? As Jensen took another step, he smelled the thick wetness of blood.
"Jeff," Jensen said, softer, the word falling from his mouth. "Tell me I can touch you."
Jeff closed his eyes and buckled to the floor.
Jensen darted over and took his weight, managing to soften his fall. His Retriever was heavy, and stank of the wasteland's desolation.
"I'll assume that's a yes," Jensen told Jeff, and dragged him over to the bandages.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 02:36 pm (UTC)This is just so well crafted I can't help but drown myself in your words.
I hope there is more soon ... of this and every verse in your stable.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-06-21 05:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:11 pm (UTC)*pets them*
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:13 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:27 pm (UTC)I like the idea that this is something that was done to Jeff, something he volunteered for, out of some sense of idealism, some sense that he wanted to help, only to find that it wasn't at all like he thought it would be.
I also really like the image of him stroking the map and Jensen feeling it. I get this image of Jeff seeing it as printed on Jensen's body, combining knowledge with this unintended sexuality that is almost innocent...if Jeff were a better man. You know? :D
And then I like the overt sexuality of the red pulsing dataport marking Jensen as claimed; the obviousness of it, contrasted with the security/comfort it gives Jensen to have it. That it's better to be thought someone's whore than to be unattached and vulnerable.
"Tell me I can touch you."
Gnnnngh.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:38 pm (UTC)This universe is so easy to fall into, so easy to see, to feel. I'm not sure exactly what that says about me, but I know what it says about the authors. That they're damn good. *g*
More soon please.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:41 pm (UTC)Thank you for sharing.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 03:45 pm (UTC)I finally got a little more sleep last night than the three before that and I've made some progress that restored a bit of control, but I honestly felt like waking up to more in this universe was a kind of cosmic sign that things were looking up. Being able to shut my worried brain off and immerse myself in such a compelling world for a brief time this morning did me more good than you could have known, so thank you.
Someday someone is going to try to argue with me that any fic with two male characters cannot possibly be lesbian (i.e. interpreted as lesbian), and I will be tempted to point them to this. You do positively fascinating things with gender. I think the reason that I am such a sucker for your Jeff is that he is simultaneously totally masculine--a Retriever. Not just a Retriever, but an Alpha. We see his masculinity, his butchness (because he really does read to me as butch and not just masculine) in what he does, how he is aware of the problems that that expression brings to his relationship with his El, and his totally self-sacrificing approach to Jensen.
Jensen, here--the corset. The cutting. I--cutting has never made sense to me. I mean, I intellectually know it happens. I just--with a knife? There are so many other approaches I would take to trying to reground myself. But the pairing of those both here not only works with the character you're building, but it also--, oh, I know what I wanted to say.
Putting aside the gender thing--the fact that the genderfuck here is implied by the complex ways that both characters approach gender, you really get to the heart of a BDSM dynamic. This isn't fic that flirts with it--it gets right into the mental headspace.
I'm babbling--blame it on the heat wave and the sleep deprivation, but I wanted to give you some sense of how I responded as I read and how much I loved it.
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Date: 2008-06-21 04:20 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-06-21 07:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 07:28 pm (UTC)happy sigh
havign only just discovered this verse (don't know why) I have devoured what there is in one sitting....but now I am hungry for more.
This is beautiful
HUGS
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 07:41 pm (UTC)This is such a facinating 'verse and I'm so glad to see more of it! The sexual tension is scorching. You guys are amazing to have built up so much tension even though Jeff and Jensen have barely touched each other.
no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 07:44 pm (UTC)retriever fic
Date: 2008-06-21 08:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-21 08:54 pm (UTC)